The Last Secret
by alloy-za
Summary: With Voldemort defeated, only one secret remains and Harry, Ron and Hermione embark on their final quest.


The Last Secret.

By alloy

Beta: Sandy

The bus jerked, jolting Harry out of his doze. On the seat opposite, Ron brought his hand up holding the sleeping Hermione's head to his chest, trying to insulate her from the bumps of this rural Scottish road.

Ron smiled and Harry was once again overwhelmed by the friendship and loyalty his two friends had shown him throughout his long journey into adulthood. They didn't need to be here, but Harry was ever so grateful that they were.

This trip had been unplanned; a response to an idle remark from his cousin Dudley and a swift interrogation of his aunt.

When this final mystery played itself out; they would be free to pursue their lives unencumbered by secret and prophecy.

It was too much, really, the unfettered opportunities that awaited them.

Ron and Hermione had a plan. Not something they consciously hid from him, but something that as lovers they instinctively kept private.

Hermione stirred and Ron released his gentle restraints.

"Where are we?" she asked rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Harry shrugged, and it was Ron who replied.

"Three or four miles at most I reckon," he said.

The bus, save for them, was empty. Plockton was the end of the bus route; as remote a Muggle place as any in Scotland. There were only two reasons for coming to Plockton- the first involved hiding, the second seeking.

Harry and his friends were done with hiding.

The bus ground to a shuddering halt.

There were people waiting for it of course. In its belly, the bus carried post, parcels and merchandise.

The driver might have grumbled when he saw their tickets, but their presence hadn't really made any difference to his route.

Harry paused as he stepped into the street. He looked up and down trying to take in the whole village.

When he looked again his friends were halfway across the street.

"Hurry up, Harry," Hermione said. "It's here."

"Are you sure?" He reached into his pocket for the address he had written down.

"There's no where else, mate," Ron said.

The Bull and Ram was the only Inn in town.

Inside the door, they paused again.

Harry was suddenly nervous.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Oh Harry," Hermione said. "You've come so far."

"'Sides," Ron continued, "The bus only leaves again tomorrow. We've got to at least stay the night."

With that, Ron left them and approached the reception counter.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Am I doing the right thing, Hermione?"

"Of course you are, Harry. You really don't have any choice."

Ron returned a bemused look on his face. "I've booked us some rooms," he said.

"And?" Hermione asked.

"He's in the dinning room," Ron paused. "Funny thing, the desk clerk seemed to think he recognized me."

"Don't be silly, Ronald. How could he possibly recognize you?"

Ron ignored Hermione's remark and led them the dining room. Harry hung back still uncertain. He noticed as a waiter directed Ron, and continued to trail behind letting his friend obscure his view of the man they had come to see.

"You Basil's son?"

The question asked in a mild Scottish burr, had clearly been directed at Ron.

"No sir," Ron replied.

"Well then who are you, lad? You're clearly my kin, but I'm not a bloody mind reader."

Silently, Ron moved aside gently pulling Hermione with him.

The man sitting at a single table was stocky with grey-white hair which gave indication of his maturity, but his full bushy beard retained its vibrant copper colour.

No wonder the staff had assumed, as had the man himself, that Ron was a member of his family.

Like Ron's father, Arthur, Marshal Evans had passed his hair palette onto to his daughter.

The man stiffened as he saw Harry. "Oh my," he said, "Oh my."

"You look like your father, boy." The man's voice had softened, but Harry knew it was he who had been addressed.

"I have my mother's eyes," Harry replied.

"Your eyes were mostly closed that one time I saw you."

"You saw me?"

"Of course, I did. Straight after you were born your father brought me to see you. I always liked your father."

"Why?" Harry voice was rough. "Why did you never come for me?"

"I was abroad when it happened. Your mother was gone, your father….Petunia said you were dead."

"You weren't very surprised to see Harry," Hermione asked.

The old man looked at her as if only now noticing her. "Your friends care about you," he said

"We do," Ron replied. "How could you believe Petunia? If you knew what she and Vernon put Harry through…"

"She's still my daughter, young man. Even though I never approved of her marriage, I had no reason to doubt her."

"But…" Harry knew that it took more than that to silence Hermione.

"She came to visit me six months ago. A garbled story about how you were alive and fighting the same war that killed Lily. I told her I never wanted to see her again."

"But…" Harry really had no idea what he wanted to say.

"I've private investigators scouring London for you. Looking everywhere except the one place you might be."

"Diagon Alley."

"I'm just a Muggle, Harry. Petunia knew enough give me your friend's names. My investigators tracked down Miss Granger's parents. He turned to Hermione. "They're gravely worried about you."

"I….we wanted to wait, help Harry to find you first."

"Phone them child. They need to hear your voice."

He turned to Ron. "Petunia was able to give a rather detailed, if unflattering, description of your family." Marshall Evans smiled. "Unfortunately, there's no record to be found of them."

The chair scraped back and Harry's grandfather stood. Harry moved forward allowing his grandfather to grasp him by the head.

"Petunia said ….."

Harry lifted his fringe out of the way. "It used to be here," he said. "Now it's gone."

"That means he's gone too, doesn't it? That's how magic works."

"He's gone," Harry agreed. "That's how magic works, Grandfather."

Marshall even smothered Harry in a bear hug even as he shouted to the waiter.

"Champagne, my good man! Champagne for everyone. My grandson's alive and home." His voice lowered, "Not so much as a scar."

The End


End file.
